Page 75 of Empty Net
"You what?"
"Adrian. St. Norbert. 2017."
His expression passes through six stages. Shock. Horror. Calculation. More horror. Curiosity. Offense.
"Why?"
"Couldn't sleep."
"That is not an answer."
"Wanted to see."
The last word changes him.
"See what?"
I look at the mug in my hand. Bad coffee. Warm. His kitchen. Morning.
"You."
Caleb does not move.
I keep going because stopping now would be worse.
"You took a middle pass in the third when you should've chipped it off the glass."
"That is unfortunately specific."
"First one worked. Second one almost got picked."
"It did get picked."
"Weak support from the center."
"I have been saying that for nine years."
I almost smile.
He sets the mug down carefully. "You watched my bad college film and came away with system notes."
"And an opinion."
"About?"
"You never stopped moving."
The words are not polished. They are better for that.
Caleb looks down at the counter. His throat moves once.
"I wasn't very good," he says.
"I know."
He laughs once, startled and wounded and amused at the same time. "Thank you for the reassurance."
"You were relentless."
